One More Night
by RainThestral93
Summary: He wants more, she doesn't. So they keep at the same old routine, telling one another that this night will be the last, again and again and again. Because that's better than nothing, right? But are they really fooling anyone? Least of all themselves? "The bed is unmade like everything is... Dark little heaven at the top of the stairs" Minor language usage & suggested sex


**A/N:**This is a little one-shot that I wrote about Hermione and Draco. You know that one person that completes you, makes you feel alive and full and yet you know they're no good for you, at all? Every time they walk you're left feeling un-sated and dissatisfied yet completely electrified? Yeah well that's how I imagine an older Draco & Hermione relationship would work. He wants more, she doesn't. So they keep at the same old routine, telling one another that this night will be the last, again and again and again. Because that's better than nothing, right? Let me know what you think, I only intend for this to be a one-shot but if you want more I'm sure I can work something up – Beth :) xx

* * *

"Please Hermione," Draco pleaded with the brown haired girl in front of him, his tone sincere and desperate, "I'll do anything," his hand captured her wrist in his steely grip as he pleaded with her and she glared at him as she tried to wrench it away from him.

"Get off me," she snarled, rubbing her wrist as she broke free from his vice-like grip. He was stronger that he thought and he really hurt her when he did things like that, unthinking violent actions. It reminded her of his father and the way he'd neglected his only son. "It was a mistake, and it won't be happening again. Now leave me be."

He watched her go. She was wearing an elegant red dress and red chunky heels that accentuated her shapely legs and the dress itself clung to her all-too familiar curvature. She was his kryptonite; the mere sight of her alone made him go weak at the knees. Not like he'd tell anyone that, though… much less her and her frizz ball hair which he'd come to adore for some inexplicable and bizarre reason.

Hermione strode off to find her friends Harry and Ron; the latter was currently imposing himself on some innocent young witch who looked about half Ron's age. Probably wasn't even legal, Hermione chuckled. Making her way to the bar, she ordered a jagermeister shot and necked it back, wincing as the bitter liquid burnt her throat. She was going to need several drinks tonight if she was going to be able to put Malfoy's attendance to the dance out of her mind and actually enjoy herself.

All she could see was the sculpted lines of his torso in the pale moonlight that flooded her flat. The caress of his arms on her sides, the taste of his kisses as they had rained down all over her figure. She screwed her eyes shut, trying to force the memory out of her mind; she didn't want to remember the times they'd spent being intimate in that way. She shuddered, I mean, he was _Draco Malfoy_for crying out loud.

The evening was coming to a close and a slow song began to resonate out of the speakers. Hermione groaned. She bet anyone a million galleons that Malfoy had tipped off the DJ to play this song. He knew that she wouldn't be able to resist once the lyrics resounded in her alcohol infused brain. As if on cue, he proffered her his hand, inviting her onto the dance floor with him.

_**Try as he might he's unable to speak  
He grabs her by the hair, he strokes her on the cheek**_

Following the directions of the song, Malfoy brought his fingers up to trace the contours of Hermione's face. Her breathing hitched, getting caught in her throat and her eyelids fluttered shut as he traced gentle patterns on her pale library-tinted skin. She let out a gentle moan, as his hand that had been resting on the small of her back worked its way up to entwine itself in Hermione's hair, tugging gently to display her delicate neck to the blonde haired wizard, who trailed kisses lightly all the way up to her earlobe; oblivious to all the other people in the room.

"Mione?" He asked, and Hermione let out a low growl in response. That was answer enough for him, and he apparated them both to the flat that had become so familiar over the past few nights.  
_  
__**The bed is unmade like everything is  
Dark little heaven at the top of the stairs**_

He swept the witch up in her arms, carrying her bridal style up the familiar set of stairs which he'd walked up and down far more times than he should in recent months. He flicked the light switch on, his hand finding it immediately on the wall without fumbling around. His lust-filled eyes swept the room, taking in his surroundings. He noted the bedside lamp was askew; they must have knocked it over earlier, and Hermione was too inebriated to have righted it's position, yet. The covers were bunched up and smelt of sex; the hangings on Hermione's four poster bed were slightly ripped and the room looked well and truly trashed.

Malfoy chucked throatily to himself as he regarded their surroundings. If you'd have told him two years ago that he'd find himself insatiably hungry for something which none other than Hermione Jean Granger could offer in the moonlight of her flat then he'd have probably laughed in your face. But that was the case, and there was nothing he could do to stop it; he'd tried everything he could to get the god damn bitch out of his head, she wasn't good for him. However these attempts had been futile, and here he found himself once again…

_**Take me like that, ruin it all  
Then build it again by the light in the hall**_

"Take me," Hermione muttered breathily, her eyes wide and pupils large as she regarded the male in front of her with apprehension mixed in with adoration and awe. "Forget about what I said earlier," she countered. "We'll address that when we come to it."

"You sure?" Malfoy demanded, not wanting to push her past her boundaries. Heaven forbid she get angry enough to not allow him to come anywhere near her. He thought he may die, if that was the case.

_**He drops to his knees says please my love, please  
I'll kill who you hate, take off that dress, you won't freeze**_

"You going to take off that dress then or what?" he teased, as she reached for the zipper, and slowly dragged it down, revealing the pale flawless skin of her back.

"I am," she agreed, "But this is the last time. The last night. This can't keep happening."

"Whatever," Malfoy dismissed, "Now shut up and kiss me."

**One more night, that was a good one**  
**One more night, I dreamed it was a good one**  
**One more, one more night, that was a good one**  
**One more night, the end should be a good one**  
**A good one**

He trailed kisses up and down the length of her spine, his fingers tracing patterns, burning her skin where he touched her, as she arched her back under his touch.

"Roll over," she demanded, her breathing heavy with the trace of desire, and he obeyed her every command, her climbing atop him to make her mark, leave a lasting impression.

**He starts with her back cause that's what he sees**  
**When she's breaking his heart she still fucks like a tease**

She had a way of taking him to new heights; places he'd never explored before as she wandered the contours of his athletic build. He found himself gasping for air as he found release; and she looked him right in the eye, her eyes wide and knowledgeable as she saw him exposed, vulnerable even.

"I wish you would die," she admitted nonchalantly, as she lay next to him, curly frizz splayed out across her white pillows that smelt of musk and Malfoy's apple-y scent.

She didn't notice him sigh in desperation, or witness the silent tears that he cried into her pillow. It was evident that nothing was ever going to change between them; she still hated him… and him the opposite. Hermione granger was his lifeline – his floating aid, his armbands, whatever you wanted to call it. He wasn't one hundred per cent sure he could live without her, and yet all they'd ever have with one another would be what she continuously told him "one more night", that's all they could ever be.

_**Release to the sky, look him straight in the eye  
And tell him that now, that you wish he would die**_

Hermione sighed to herself. She'd given into her human desires again; her body being a traitor and conflicting everything that her brain was telling her. Draco Malfoy is evil; stay away from him. She'd done the opposite, she'd opened herself up to him in ways she hadn't dared do with anyone. With a resolute nod, she resolved that she would never lay a finger on him again after this night. She might as well make the most of what precious little time she had with him and his oh-so-perfect figure.

Rolling over she touched her lips gently to his, in a sweet and chaste gesture which lacked the passion and fervour that Malfoy really wanted.

She killed him; leaving him empty and spent every single time.

And yet that was part of the reason why he loved her. She cool, calm and emotionless and she didn't want him for anything but convenience. And that was the harsh reality.  
_**  
You'll never touch him again so get what you can  
Leaving him empty just because he's a man**_

The moments they spent together, a thin white sheet symbolising the neutral ground in which they both managed to overcome their differences; put the past and years of taunting, teasing, fighting for the opposite sides behind them. It was good while it lasted, she would admit that much at least. But take them out of that setting and that's all they were – a boy and girl that were too different to be compatible.

He had his friends, Pureblood aristocracy who wouldn't be seen dead with people like her, and she had hers. The boy who lived and his best friends fraternizing with an ex-death eater? It was ludicrous to even consider the notion. This was why she didn't. Instead, she locked her heart away in a cage, preventing it from getting continuously battered as she encountered Malfoy over and over again. And she pretended not to care as she saw him out in the morning, and went about her business.

_**So good when it ends, they'll never be friends  
One more night, that's all they can spend**_

The door shut behind him, and the latch closed as he made his way out into the night. He never stayed – that was the unspoken agreement between him and Hermione. Things got a little too real, that way, and this situation was anything but real.

All it was was one more night of indulgence between two people who should have never embarked on such a gut twisting heart wrenching roller coaster.

One more night, they told themselves. Again. And again. And again.

**One more night, that was a good one**  
**One more night, I dreamed it was a good one**  
**One more, one more night, that was a good one**  
**One more night, the end should be a good one**  
**A good one**


End file.
